“I won’t,” she said, her voice trembling as she raised her arms, letting him pull her dress over her head. He was in a stupor as he gazed at her, the contrast between her scarred skin and the dark undergarments striking. The strong, feisty girl suddenly seemed fragile, and he could never live with himself if he somehow broke her.
She reached over and unbuttoned his top button, but he grabbed her hands. “Relax, okay? Let me worship you.”
Her lips curved at his words. He unclasped her bra, tossing it on the floor, and gazed at her as he grazed his hand across her breasts. A blush started on her cheeks and trickled the whole way down her body.
She lay on the bed when he finished undressing her, fisting the comforter. Loud moans bounced off the cabin walls as he caressed every inch of her flesh with his tongue. Her body writhed, her legs vibrating as she melted for him. She smelled sweet like nectar he was desperate to consume. A starving man, craving her like nothing before.
She cried out when her body exploded in pleasure, the sight of her pushing Carmine over the edge. He shrugged off his shirt, discarding it with Haven’s clothes, before kissing her deeply. She wrapped her arms around him, her breathing erratic as he unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor. “We can stop—”
Her voice was a ball of fire. “I don’t want to stop.”
Relieved, his excitement outshined his fear. Hovering over her, he kissed her jaw and nipped at her neck, his heart thumping hard in his chest at the warmth radiating from her. Her hands on his skin were electric as she ran her fingers lightly over the scar on his side. She tilted her head as he kissed the dip in her throat, his lips moving along her collarbones.
His nerves flared as he reached between them to grasp himself. “I’ll go slow, okay?”
She clung to him, her brittle fingernails digging into his back, her body rigid when he pushed inside of her. A whimper escaped her throat as he stilled his movements to give her time to adjust. “Tanto gentile e tanto onesta pare la donna mia,” he whispered, the words from Dante’s La Vita Nuova flooding from his lips. “Quand’ella altrui saluta, ch’ogne lingua deven tremando muta, e li occhi no l’ardiscon di guardare.”
His voice was breathy from anticipation as he tried to soothe her, her body relaxing more with each word. He moved again and sparks flew through his body at the sensation.
“That was beautiful,” she said.
“The poem or the penetration?” he asked, not thinking before saying the words. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I meant the poem, but the other part’s nice so far too,” she said shyly. “And you should’ve said that, because that’s who you are.”
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to be tender,” he said. “You deserve to be romanced.”
“I don’t need romance. I need you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed. Electricity coursed through him from where they were connected, goose bumps popping up as shivers ripped down his spine. As he made love to her, he finally felt what that meant. They were experiencing something together, an intensity he’d never felt before. It was all of her, every inch of her body, inside and out, merging with his.
“Only you,” she whispered, as if she could read his mind. “It’ll only ever be you, Carmine.”
Her words ignited a fire inside of him, stirring up the possessiveness that demanded they belong together, forever, just like this. They moved together deliberately, falling into a perfect rhythm. Her noises grew louder, and he grabbed one of her hands, linking their fingers together as he pressed it into the mattress.
“I love you,” she said breathlessly.
A noise escaped his throat involuntarily in response, a rumbling growl as hunger swirled through him. “Ti amo. Christ, I love you, Haven.”
There was an ache in his chest, originating in his heart, the pain of all-consuming, overflowing love, so powerful it took his breath away. He continued to fill her and took her other hand, placing it above her head on the bed. His body weight rested against her as he hitched her knees up. Nuzzling into her neck, he tasted the saltiness of sweat as their bodies slid together smoothly.
Afterward, when the feelings subsided, she snuggled against him, her hand on his chest over his wildly thumping heart. They lay together, legs entangled, as they relished in the postcoital glow. He wanted to ask if she could feel his heart beating, but he kept his mouth shut, choosing instead to enjoy the silence.
Just two kids, together and in love. There was still nothing that needed to be said.
30
The weeks that followed their stay in the cabin flew by, half a year having elapsed since Haven had been forced to leave her mama behind. She adapted to the world outside the desert, little things that once intimidated her now a regular part of her life. She still kept up with her work, cooking and cleaning every day, but there was always time left over. She had never had time to do things leisurely, and the more she indulged, the more she couldn’t imagine ever going back.
Free time, Carmine called it. His choice of words made her laugh.
Drawing and painting, reading and crafts—her days were a flurry of unrestrained creativity. She had taken some notebooks from Carmine and filled pages with words, scribbling down everything on her mind. It was disjointed, riddled with errors, but it wasn’t meant for others’ eyes. She found it liberating, like a valve had been turned, the pressure inside her releasing. The nightmares came less often after that, like she had chased away the monsters with the power of her words.
She grew more comfortable being outside the house too. Carmine took her wherever he went, giving her cash so she could count it out and pay. She ordered her own food, picked out her own things, and spoke for herself whenever the opportunity arose.
Life hadn’t only changed for Haven—it shifted for all of them. Dr. DeMarco spent every weekend in Chicago while Dominic prepared for college, since he would graduate in a few months and head across the country with Tess. Even Dia was graduating, but she was staying close by in Charlotte.
Haven was in the kitchen early the morning before Easter Sunday, cleaning up breakfast as Carmine leaned against the counter, watching her as usual. “What do you wanna do today?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you want to do.”
“If I knew what I wanted to do, do you think I’d bother asking?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “You always ask my opinion.”
“Well, do you have an opinion this time?”
“We can hang out here.”